Fighter
by wavingthroughawindow
Summary: She existed to attack and fight and kill. And she was good at it, too. Anything else she might have felt, or wanted, was inconsequential. Quite simply put, she just didn't matter. The others seemed to think differently.


**Hi everyone! Sorry I haven't posted in so long, but I hope you like this short, angsty piece! Please review!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel.**

* * *

She once thought her feelings mattered.

This didn't last very long. By the time she was ten, they had made sure she knew what her purpose was: to attack and kill. Anything else simply had no significance. Any feelings she had once were quite literally beaten out of her. They didn't take kindly to weakness. So she felt as little as possible. Anything she did feel, she made sure to keep hidden.

The first time she took a life, she felt something in her gut. She wasn't sure what it was, but it didn't feel good. Concern filled her; had she done something wrong?

But then she looked at her master, who gave her a small, approving nod. He was pleased with her, more pleased than he had ever been. She started to feel something else, something _good_ this time. She would do _anything_ to garner the same reaction from him again.

A salty discharge was trickling down her cheeks. _What was that?_ She quickly wiped it away. Her master wouldn't like it. Straightening her back, she turned to face him, placing her hands at her sides. She held still, keeping her face composed.

 _Another nod._ This one signified that she still had more to do. More lives to take.

Something still didn't feel right about this. But she knew he had her best interests at heart.

So she went on, adding more and more red to her ledger until there was nothing but oceans of blood.

* * *

They changed everything.

First came the man who was going to be her Death. She had been faced with many Deaths throughout the years, but none who could match her. It would be a tough fight, but in the end, SHIELD had his back. The Red Room did not have hers.

Still, she was not going down without a fight. After all, she didn't know how else to respond. Thus, when she saw him, she ignored the tears streaming down her eyes and the stabbing feeling she felt in her heart. _They didn't matter._ She attacked.

But instead, he held his hands up, a gesture of surrender. Confused, she backed away from him slowly. Was he luring her into a sense of false security?

Betraying no emotion, she asked, "Are you going to kill me?"

He looked slightly taken aback. "I don't know," he replied after some hesitation.

He was telling the truth. "And what if I kill you first?" A challenge.

"I have no doubt you will win," he said, smirking. "The legendary Black Widow, versus mere old Clint Barton? It's not even a contest."

She gave him a tight lipped smile. "Thank you," she said.

They fell into a silence, the air thick with tension. She didn't know what to think of him. Why was he acting civil to her?

"What is your name?" he asked suddenly.

"I'm sure you know already."

"As a matter of a fact, I don't. You have done a good job hiding from us."

"Fine, I'll humor you," she said. "Natasha Romanoff."

"Clint Barton," he said, pointing to himself. She nodded.

"Natasha, I'll be honest with you. You have a very useful skill set. I doubt we could find another like you. And while SHIELD does consider you to be a threat right now, I believe with the right push, you could be a real asset to the team," he said.

"You say that like you assume I'll accept." She frowned. A job offer. She would still be attacking, fighting, killing, but for a different organization. Maybe a better one.

"Look at it this way," he said. "Either you accept, or one of us dies."

"I will need twenty four hours to make my decision," she replied.

* * *

In the end, she accepted.

It made no difference to her. There were already several enemy organizations on her back. Perhaps switching sides would keep them away. Besides, she hated to admit it, but she rather enjoyed being able to have human company again.

In time, she learned of the atrocities she committed while a part of the Red Room. All the blood on her hands… that strange emotion she had experienced when making her first kill now surged through her like a river. It was called _guilt,_ he later told her.

He helped her with it, too. Those first few nights, when she had woken up unable to breathe as if the emotion itself was suffocating her, he sat beside her and talked to her. He told her his stories, and once she had regained her composure, she told him hers.

The two of them often went on missions together as well. (She had saved his life twenty times, and he had saved hers sixteen). There was something growing between them, something new but strong that she didn't quite know what to do with. She felt like she could confide in him. He almost felt like the brother she had never had.

Maybe it was because he seemed to be under the impression her feelings had significance.

(They didn't.)

Still, she trusted him now. After all, when a man saves your life sixteen times, they are beyond reproach.

* * *

Next came a man so infuriating that she _hated_ him at first. He was cocky, arrogant, vain, egotistical, brash, irresponsible… the list went on for quite some time. Never mind that he had defeated a supervillain. He was _not_ heroic.

He seemed to wear his feelings like flashy jewelry, flaunting them for the rest of the world to see. However, she soon learned that he was a master at concealing emotions, like herself. After all, in her first week of knowing him, he had been trying to figure out how to come to terms with his own death. And maybe, just maybe… she respected that, a little bit.

He was _still_ extremely irresponsible. He should not have meddled with power like that in such a precarious state. She wasn't sure why she stuck with him (definitely _not_ because he was growing on her.)

But she did stay. He respected that. In time, she figured out how to read his emotions. She began to see herself mirrored in him. Apparently, for all his bravado, he didn't think very much of himself at all. He started to open up to her, just a little bit. And for some reason, he always knew when she was hiding something, whether it be information or emotions.

He was nothing like Clint. Being a genius, he did not know how to handle people. But he knew when she was hurting. For some reason, he _also_ seemed to believe her feelings were important, because he did try to help her. He would ask her straight out what she needed. And since she couldn't lie to him, she would tell him.

Their relationship was fragile, strange, and unlike anything she had ever experienced. They were simply two untrusting creatures, wary of the world, trying to find their way. But after the battle, she _had_ to trust him, just a little bit. He felt like a brother to her now as well, albeit in a different way.

And despite everything, she was grateful for him, for their relationship.

She knew she didn't deserve it.

* * *

She was still trying to figure the third one out.

For a man who contained an angry rage monster, he was surprisingly well-contained and soft-spoken. She could sense the fear brimming in him, though. Not towards her, but towards his own self.

The first time he turned into his Other, she knew why. His Other tried to kill her, the entirety of SHIELD, and everything, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

But then came the battle. He _chose_ to become his worst fear just to give the world a fighting chance. In her opinion, he was the most heroic of the lot.

She didn't know why she was drawn to him. Perhaps it was because he was a man who would fight for his friends, his allies, the world. But he would not fight for himself. So, she figured, he needed someone to fight for him.

As she got to know him, she began to feel a pull in her heart. Somehow, when she spoke to him, there was a vulnerability, a tenderness, like no other. Over time, the two of them began to trust each other enough to lay out their whole selves to each other. He knew everything, the good, the bad, and the ugly. She was okay with that. No one knew ugly better than him.

She knew he deserved better than her. And she certainly didn't want to bind him to her for the rest of his life. She knew she couldn't ruin his whole life just because she wanted him.

It didn't matter what she wanted.

But oh, she wanted him _so_ much.

It didn't matter.

* * *

By contrast, the fourth one was the simplest of them all.

She was still certain he was an angel. The man was a born hero. He was kind, selfless, a good leader… the type of person she would have never thought would care about her.

But he did. The man cared, and he didn't hesitate to show it. He was almost like a psychologist, the way he was able to ease her into talking to him, and the way he would respond. His words would always be understanding. Never judgmental.

There was an _easiness_ with him that she had never experienced before. Maybe it was because he had enough people skills for the both of them. There was no effort talking to him, it all flowed naturally.

But maybe she was learning from him, just a little bit. He started to come to her when he needed a shoulder to cry on as well. And she… somehow, she always knew exactly what to say to him to make him feel better. It still surprised her. But it was not hard. If there was one thing she had learned from him, it was to speak from the heart.

Not that it ever made a difference.

He was a brother to her now as well. She cared about him, and he did care about her.

He shouldn't have bothered. But she appreciated it anyway.

* * *

In the end, they were all wrong. No matter how much they tried to convince her otherwise, her feelings did _not_ matter.

She was grateful for them all the same.

But in the end, she was but a vessel, born and raised to kill. There was nothing else that mattered.

She was a fighter, not a hero. It was just good that she was fighting for the right side.

But maybe, just maybe, that made her a little bit heroic.

Just a little bit.

* * *

 **A/N: Whew. That was both so easy and so difficult to write. I knew from the start what I wanted to say, and what emotion I wanted to convey in this piece. Choosing the right words to tell Natasha's story was difficult, though. Even after many edits and rewrites of each line, I still don't think I quite did it justice.**

 **Also, I didn't include Thor in this for a reason. I love him, and I love her, individually, but I don't really feel like the two of them have much of a relationship. I mean, they do, but it's not as deep as the other four, and the difference would have been glaringly obvious. After a lot of thought I finally decided to leave him out.**

 **I hope you like the story, though! Please review, it really makes my day! Thanks for reading!**


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